


another first kiss like this

by 5ftjewishcactus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Communication, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, No Sex, No Smut, Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Second Chances, The Dowling Years (Good Omens), The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/pseuds/5ftjewishcactus
Summary: During the time raising Warlock, Aziraphale and Crowley are spending the most time they’ve ever spent together. One night they share a kiss and Aziraphale thinks that maybe its their chance to be together, before the world ends, in case they fail. But then the next day, Crowley says it was a mistake. Its not until the apocalypse doesn't happen, that Aziraphale learns what really happened.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 182
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	another first kiss like this

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](https://goodomensprompts.tumblr.com/post/188216977967/during-the-time-raising-warlock-aziraphale-and) on Good Omens Prompts. I saw the prompt and couldn't stop thinking about it so here we are. 
> 
> While I'm writing this for the show canon, I decided to combine the book and show canon, so that Crowley and Aziraphale were at the Dowlings for eleven years instead of only five (book) or six (show) to add to how much time together they had for that first kiss to happen.

"Godfathers. Well, I'll be damned," Aziraphale said, smiling and feeling giddy.  
  
"It's not that bad when you get used to it," Crowley replied, with a grin of his own.  
  
Aziraphale frowned at that and huffed in annoyance.  
  
"What? You said it, not me," Crowley replied.  
  
Aziraphale's frowned deepened into a scowl. "That's not what I meant and you know it."  
  
Crowley only smirked at him. "Yeah, but I can never resist teasing you, angel."  
  
Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. He needed to plan. To figure out how to tell Heaven what he was planning to do for the next eleven years. Gain their approval. And then figure out how to go about thwarting Crowley.  
  
"What are you planning on doing?" Aziraphale asked. "To influence his upbringing."  
  
Crowley shrugged, lounging back on the couch. "Figured I'd go in as the nanny. Easiest way, really."  
  
"Oh, that is good." Aziraphale wasn't exactly good with children, not like Crowley was but being close to the Antichrist child in such a capacity would be a good way to influence him.  
  
"Too bad he only needs one nanny."  
  
Aziraphale did not, would not frown again. There had to be another way he could influence the child. "I'll come up with something."  
  
Crowley pulled out his phone and began scrolling across it. "Big estate like that. Probably a whole horde of staff. Maids and cooks and gardeners. Oh, you could be a gardener."  
  
It was a thought. Except… "I don't know the first thing about gardening."  
  
"I'll help you. It'll be fine." Crowley didn't even look up from his phone and he said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.  
  
Four months later, Aziraphale found himself stationed as the Dowling's new gardener, Brother Francis. He had his own lodgings on the grounds, away from the main house, which he appreciated. Allowed him a chance to do away with his disguise and enjoy his books without prying eyes. True to his word, Crowley had taught Aziraphale everything he knew about gardening. The yelling didn't appeal to Aziraphale but talking to the plants was nice. Encouraging them. Crowley grumbled and swore he'd never let Aziraphale around his plants if he was going to be nice to them. It felt like a secret Aziraphale wasn't supposed to know. That Crowley had plants. He'd never seen Crowley's flat. They always went to the bookshop after their meetings. All Aziraphale knew was that it was up in Mayfair. He always figured it was safer to meet at the bookshop. Plausible deniability. At least now, both of them employed by the Dowlings, they could meet and see each other with a little more ease.  
  
Crowley, who was going by the name Ashtoreth, had a room in the main house, near to Warlock's nursery. He was good with kids. Always had been, as long as Aziraphale had known him. Plus, it made sense that Crowley would be near the antichrist, practically all the time. Though, that didn't stop Crowley from slipping out occasionally at night to join Aziraphale in his little cottage. Said it was for plotting purposes, but most nights they shared a bottle of wine or two and enjoyed each other's company. During the day, Crowley would come up with excuses to bring Warlock outside. Said the sunshine and fresh air were good for a growing boy. It was really more to let Aziraphale have time with the boy, too, even while he was still so young.  
  
During one such outing, when Warlock was three years old, they sat together out on the grass, Aziraphale holding Warlock on his lap. The young boy was pointing out all the plants and animals they'd been teaching him, trying to pronounce their names and fumbling. Crowley corrected him as best he could, but the little boy wasn't too concerned with his pronunciation just yet. It was nice, the three of them together, unbothered by anyone else. Crowley turned to Aziraphale and smiled at him.  
  
"Would you want to go to dinner? Our next day off, I mean. Just the two of us."  
  
"Oh…," Aziraphale was surprised by the question, but knew his answer. "Yes. That sounds wonderful."  
  
Crowley startled a moment, as though surprised by the answer. "Right, yeah. Where'd you like to go? I'll get us reservations."  
  
Aziraphale thought a moment. "Sushi?"  
  
Crowley nodded and that was that. Their next day off wasn't for another couple of days but they passed the time easily, mostly spending it with Warlock. Crowley didn't stop by for drinks those nights and Aziraphale found he missed him.  
  
When their day off finally arrived, they both left the Dowling's separately. Each had to go meet with their respective head offices, provide status reports before anything more could be done. Usually, they'd meet up afterward to compare notes, but Crowley hadn't mentioned any of their usual rendezvous spots so Aziraphale assumed they'd discuss it during dinner. Since it was still early yet, Aziraphale headed to the bookshop. Being gone most of the week meant the bookshop's hours were even more sporadic than before, which Aziraphale didn't mind, honestly. But he figured opening for a couple of hours wouldn't hurt. He assumed Crowley would come by when it was time for their reservation.  
  
He'd only had the shop open for only a couple of hours when Crowley strolled inside.  
  
"Is it time for dinner already?" Aziraphale asked, looking at his pocket watch.  
  
"No." Crowley flipped the closed sign and locked the door. "I forgot to tell you to meet me after and figure we could compare notes now."  
  
Aziraphale set down the stack of books he'd been organizing. "Oh. I thought we'd do that during dinner."  
  
Crowley headed towards the back room, swinging by the wine cabinet. "No. We don't talk shop over dinner."  
  
"We don't?" He followed Crowley to the backroom, taking a seat at the table as Crowley set down the bottle and pulled out glasses.  
  
"No." Crowley opened a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass.  
  
Aziraphale picked up a glass and sipped at his wine, thoughtfully. He realized Crowley was right. They did tend to have their meetings before dining together where they'd talk about other things. What they'd each been up to, music Crowley had found, books Aziraphale had read. Their meals together were special. And Crowley wanted dinner to stay that way.  
  
"Alright. So, what news from Hell then?" Aziraphale asked.  
  
"Nothing much. Not a lot to report on a three-year-old. Even if he is the antichrist. Said his tantrums were a sign of his inner evil-ness."  
  
"Tantrums?"  
  
"Oh right, you're outside during those. He's three, he's testing his…" Crowley made a motion with his hand while he tried to come up with the word he meant, "autonomy. Fights nap time and eating his vegetables. Normal for a growing child."  
  
"Well, if it's normal then."  
  
Crowley gave a one-shouldered shrug and poured more wine into his now empty glass. "What about you?"  
  
"Oh well…" Aziraphale looked down at his glass. "Not much to say, really. I'm doing well for now. We'll know more as the child grows up."  
  
Crowley made a face that Aziraphale wasn't sure whether it was an agreement or not.  
  
"Do you really think we can do this, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.  
  
Crowley finished his glass and poured another one "Yeah. I mean… I hope so. Better to try, at least."  
  
"Yes, I suppose it is."  
  
"I couldn't sit back and do nothing. Not that I would be. I'd still be doing this… playing Nanny. But…" Crowley took another drink. "Rather be doing it with you."  
  
Aziraphale smiled. "Yes. I suppose it is better than waiting here for the world to end."  
  
They both drank in silence for a moment until Crowley decided to tease Aziraphale again about Heaven's love of _The Sound of Music_. They drank and talked like they always did. When it was almost time for their reservation at the sushi restaurant, Crowley drove them there, speeding through the London streets. Aziraphale ate his sushi, while Crowley had a bite and stuck to drinking throughout dinner. They talked more, about Warlock, about the Dowlings. Both had unfavorable opinions about Mr. Dowling, but both liked Harriet well enough. After dinner, Crowley drove them back to the Dowlings and walked Aziraphale to his cottage.  
  
"Good night, angel," he said, leaning against the doorway.  
  
"Good night, Crowley. Thank you, for dinner."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
Crowley turned and headed back to the main house. Aziraphale watched him disappear inside and waited until he saw the light come on in Crowley's bedroom window.  
  
That became their new normal. Meetings with head office (when necessary) and then they'd meet on the tops of buses, and in art galleries, and at concerns, compare notes, and smiles. Crowley would check on his plants at his flat and Aziraphale would open the bookshop for a couple of hours and later Crowley would pick him up for their dinner reservations. Sushi, Italian, the Ritz, and wherever else they wanted to go. Or where Aziraphale wanted to go. Crowley still rarely ate, usually had a bite or two before letting Aziraphale have the rest. And then they'd return to the Dowling residents and Crowley would walk Aziraphale to his cottage. They'd say their good nights and Aziraphale would watch until Crowley's bedroom light came on. Both safe in their respective rooms for the night.  
  
This continued until Warlock was five. They returned from their Italian dinner and Crowley leaned against the doorway to Aziraphale's cottage, like he always did.  
  
"Well, I suppose this is 'good night,' angel," he said.  
  
Aziraphale looked at Crowley. "Would you like to come in for a nightcap? I'm not quite ready for the night to be over."  
  
"Yeah, that'd be nice," Crowley replied.  
  
Aziraphale led him inside the little cottage. It wasn't much. Small kitchen that led into the living room-slash-bedroom area. Aziraphale had made himself at home with little stacks of books on the few available surfaces. He moved a few off of the small coffee table and pulled out a bottle of scotch he'd been saving. He poured them both a glass and sat down on the couch next to Crowley.  
  
"You know, this is the most time we've spent together," Crowley said, taking a drink.  
  
"It is, isn't it?" Aziraphale agreed.  
  
"Even if we fail, if the world ends, this…" Crowley motioned around them, "will be worth it."  
  
Aziraphale wanted to protest, to be the voice of hope and optimism that they wouldn’t fail, but he couldn't. It was a gamble, what they were doing. Aziraphale shouldn't have been there at all. But Crowley had been very persuasive. He knew why now, as he looked at the demon next to him.  
  
"Yes, it is," he finally agreed.  
  
Crowley shifted to look at Aziraphale. They were so close, shoulders and legs touching. Oh, it was so much more than Aziraphale had ever allowed them to have in the past. His glance flicked down to Crowley's lips. So close, either of them could lean in and it would be so easy. He forced himself to look back up at Crowley's eyes, golden in the low light of the cottage.  
  
"Not too fast?" Crowley asked.  
  
Aziraphale didn't need to ask what he meant. He remembered the words he's said nearly fifty years ago. He shook his head. Crowley took the glass out of his hand and set it down with his own on the coffee table before turning his attention back to Aziraphale. There was a silence, a pause, enough time for Aziraphale to change his mind, to move away. But he didn't. Neither of them did. And then Crowley leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, a gentle press of lips at first. His hands came up to hold Aziraphale's face, gently cupping the round cheeks in his bony fingers. Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer, one hand on Crowley's neck, fingers intertwined in his hair as his other hand rested on the demon's lower back. Through the press of lips, they both tried to express all the words they'd been too afraid to say for six thousand years. They clung to each other, Crowley practically in Aziraphale's lap.  
  
A knock at the door interrupted them. They looked to the door and Crowley was the first to move.  
  
"I'll get it," he said, easily changing into his Nanny Ashtoreth appearance and going to the door.  
  
"Sorry to bother you, Ms. Ashtoreth. I know it's your night off, but young Warlock had a nightmare and was distressed you weren't in your room," Charlie, one of the maids, said after Crowley opened the doors.  
  
"I'll be right in. Thank you, Miss Inez," Crowley replied, in the Scottish brogue he used for Ashtoreth.  
  
"You're welcome. Sorry again."  
  
Charlie left and Crowley closed the door. He turned and looked at Aziraphale.  
  
"Go. Warlock needs you. We'll talk tomorrow," Aziraphale said.  
  
"Right. Good night, angel."  
  
"Good night, Crowley."  
  
After Crowley left, Aziraphale straightened his shirt and vest, before cleaning up their glasses and putting away the bottle of Scotch. He didn't sleep anyway, but he suspected if he did, he wouldn't have slept that night. He tried to read but found it difficult to focus. All he could think about was what it meant for them. They were working to stop the apocalypse. But as Crowley had said, if they failed, at least their time together would be worth it. They'd spent so many years not putting words to how they truly felt. The Arrangement had meant to be a means, at least for Aziraphale, to express some of that longing. Proof that he wanted Crowley around, wanted him safe. It had been the same reason he'd given Crowley the Holy Water finally. If it meant Crowley was safe and hopefully showed that Aziraphale was trusting him to stick around. And he'd said he wasn't ready, but that he wanted the same thing Crowley did. One day. Aziraphale smiled to himself, remembering the feeling of Crowley's lips against his own. That day had finally come.  
  
Or so he thought.  
  
The next day went the same as any other day. Aziraphale worked in the garden in the morning and that afternoon, Crowley brought Warlock outside to play. Aziraphale was watering some rose bushes when Warlock ran up to him.  
  
"Brother Francis!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Ah, young Master Warlock. I heard you had a nightmare last night," Aziraphale greeted.  
  
"I did, but Nanny made it all better."  
  
"Good. And how are you today?"  
  
Warlock told him about the school he would be attending once the school year began and how nervous he was about it. Aziraphale reassured him that he'd be fine, make lots of friends and learn even more. Feeling better, Warlock went to play. Crowley was watching from one of the garden benches.  
  
"Good afternoon, Ms. Ashtoreth," he said, in case anyone was around to hear them.  
  
"It's just us, angel," Crowley replied, though he didn't look at Aziraphale.  
  
"Oh. Good."  
  
Aziraphale moved closer to the bench, continuing to water the flower bushes nearby.  
  
"About last night," Crowley said, still not looking at Aziraphale.  
  
"Ah, yes," Aziraphale replied. "Tonig…"  
  
"It can never happen again."  
  
Aziraphale almost dropped the watering can. "What?"  
  
"It was a mistake. We're here to do a job. To stop the apocalypse."  
  
Crowley hadn't looked at him once, not that it mattered with the sunglasses he wore as Ashtoreth, Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see his eyes anyway.  
  
"Right. Of course. Absolutely," Aziraphale replied, a little more stiffly than he'd meant.  
  
He held tightly to the watering can and headed back towards his cottage.  
  
"Come on, Warlock. Time to go inside," he heard Crowley say.  
  
That night, Crowley didn't come to the cottage for drinks. Didn't stop by the following nights either. On their next day off, they left separately to meet with their respective head offices, after they met at one of their alternate rendezvous spots to compare notes, and then went their separate ways again. Neither mentioned the kiss again and there were no more mentions of dinners together. Aziraphale went to his bookshop for a few hours and returned to the Dowling residence alone. And that became the new routine for the next six years.  
  
And then…  
  
Warlock turned eleven. No Hellhound showed up. Warlock wasn't actually the antichrist.  
  
Armageddon was started, by another boy, eleven years old Adam Young.  
  
Aziraphale and Crowley said things neither meant, unable to see that they both still wanted the same thing.  
  
And then the apocalypse stopped. Adam stopped it. Aziraphale and Crowley were with him when he faced down Satan himself.  
  
And yet…  
  
Aziraphale felt untethered. Uneasy. He was still an angel, but he was no longer on Heaven's side. He and Crowley were on their own side now. That should have been a good thing. Should have made Aziraphale feel better. But he couldn't help the doubt that crept in, gripping at his stomach and making his muscles feel tense. It didn't fade as he and Crowley stepped onto the bus that would take them back to London. He needed something solid to hold onto and without thinking, he reached out and held Crowley's hand as they sat down. Crowley didn't object, simply linked their fingers together and squeezed Aziraphale's hand. It helped some. Settled some of the nerves enough that he could think during their ride back to London.  
  
When the bus finally pulled up outside Crowley's building, Aziraphale felt a little better and knew what he wanted to do once they were inside. He reluctantly let go of Crowley's hand as they stood to exit the bus. Both were silent as they headed up to Crowley's flat. Once inside, Crowley paused, staring at the pile of something left on the floor. Aziraphale looked at him, curiously.  
  
"Ligur," Crowley said, waving his hand and causing the pile to disappear.  
  
"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale said.  
  
Crowley started to say something and then shrugged as he closed his mouth again. Aziraphale stood next to him and held his hand again. Crowley pulled his sunglasses off, tossing them onto his desk and looked at Aziraphale.  
  
"Everything alright, angel?" he asked.  
  
"I think I should be asking you that," Aziraphale replied, seeing the tired look in those yellow eyes. "Crowley, dear."  
  
He reached up with his other hand and cupped Crowley's cheek. Crowley leaned into the touch.  
  
"Angel," he sighed.  
  
Aziraphale shivered at the way he said the word, so full of love.  
  
"May I kiss you?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Crowley whispered, "Please."  
  
Aziraphale leaned in, still holding Crowley's face with one hand and kissed him. Crowley's arm went around Aziraphale's waist, holding the angel close. Aziraphale let go of Crowley's hand to pull the demon closer to him, trying to express through every point of contact everything he hadn't said in the last six years.  
  
"I'm sorry," Crowley said, against his lips, tears falling from yellow eyes.  
  
"Oh Crowley, darling. I'm sorry, too." Aziraphale brushed away a few tears with the hand still cupping Crowley's cheek.  
  
"It wasn't a mistake," Crowley said. "Last time I mean. I was scared."  
  
"Scared?"  
  
Crowley nodded. "I thought maybe you'd regret it. And I couldn't handle the idea of you changing your mind. I thought I could protect myself if I did it first."  
  
"My darling." Aziraphale kissed Crowley's forehead and continued to wipe tears away. "I didn't regret it. Our time together was so precious then. If we had failed, that would've been enough."  
  
"So, if I'd just kept my mouth shut, maybe things would've been different."  
  
Aziraphale shrugged. "Perhaps. But we got here in the end."  
  
Crowley nodded and tucked his head against Aziraphale's shoulder. The angel wrapped his arms around Crowley's waist. For the moment, they had each other. They would still need to face Heaven and Hell, whatever punishment awaited them.   
  
"There's probably still time to run off to Alpha Centauri," Crowley said, clearly thinking like Aziraphale. 

Finally both of them on the same page. Mostly.  
  
"No, dearest. We'll figure out what to do." He rubbed Crowley's back. "But for tonight, we should rest. It's been a long day for both of us."  
  
Crowley nodded. After a few more minutes of simply holding each other, Aziraphale coaxed Crowley towards the bedroom. He sat on the bed with Crowley, who curled up against him, his head resting on the plump of Aziraphale's belly. While his love slept, Aziraphale carded his fingers through the red hair and thought about what they would do. He held Agnes's final prophecy between his fingers, working out what her words could mean.  
  
By the time Crowley woke up the next morning, Aziraphale thought he had the answer. Crowley nuzzled his face against Aziraphale's plush stomach.  
  
"Morning, darling," Aziraphale said.  
  
Crowley mumbled something into Aziraphale's tummy.  
  
"I think I figured out the prophecy."  
  
Crowley rolled onto his side to look up at Aziraphale. "Did you?"  
  
Aziraphale nodded. "'Choose our faces wisely' I believe we need to swap places."  
  
Crowley sat up and ran his hands through his hair. "Right. Yeah. They're going to go for the extreme. Holy water and Hellfire. Makes sense."  
  
"I thought so, too. But if we swap places, they won't be able to hurt us."  
  
Crowley sighed. Aziraphale leaned forward and cupped his cheek. "We can do this, Crowley."  
  
"I know because I can't go through losing you again."  
  
"You won't."  
  
Before Crowley could protest more, Aziraphale kissed him. It was a dirty trick, but Crowley melted into the kiss, arms wrapping around Aziraphale's neck.  
  
"We can do this," Crowley echoed, looking at Aziraphale.  
  
"Yes." Aziraphale smiled. "I trust you. I'm sorry if I never made that clear enough. But I do trust you. With my whole being."  
  
"I trust you, too, angel."  
  
Crowley kissed him again, lips soft and gentle. Their fourth kiss and if they got it right, if swapping places saved them from Heaven and Hell, then hopefully it would be the first of many to come. Aziraphale held onto that hope as he kissed Crowley. He held the demon close again and promised with press of lips that he'd never let Crowley go again. They'd lost so much time already and Aziraphale wasn't going to let them lose any more time. He'd been the Guardian of the Eastern Gate and now he was going to be the Guardian of Crowley. He would protect his love, no matter what came for them. He'd chosen his side, finally. Neither Heaven nor Hell could make him back down now. 

And he didn't. They swapped places and Aziraphale faced Hell while Crowley faced Heaven and afterwards they met back up at St. James Park where they swapped back before going to lunch at The Ritz to celebrate. After lunch, Crowley took him to see the bookshop for himself, in all its restored glory. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, walking over to where the demon had been watching him from the backroom. 

"Yes, angel?" 

Aziraphale smiled. "I love you."

Crowley pushed himself off the pillar he'd been leaning against and kissed him. "I love you, angel."

And Aziraphale had been right. Their fourth kiss had been the first of many, as he kissed Crowley again right there in the middle of the bookshop. That night, they stayed at the bookshop, curled up together in the bed in the flat above the bookshop (Rarely used, except once back in 1982 during a bad snow storm, when Aziraphale had insisted Crowley stay instead of risking the roads. Crowley had stayed and slept for three days.) and the next morning Aziraphale woke Crowley with many kisses. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr [@5ftjewishcactus](https://5ftjewishcactus.tumblr.com/) or on twitter on my main [@5ftjewishcactus](https://twitter.com/5ftjewishcatus) or on my sfw gen fandom [@2ambiace](https://twitter.com/2ambiace) or my dbh [@asexualhankcon](https://twitter.com/asexualhankcon).


End file.
